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A single leaf turning from green to gold, suspended in warm light — symbolizing transformation, grace, and the movement from striving to rootedness.
Turning a New Leaf
Abstract painting of two hands gently holding a warm light, symbolizing the Church’s feminine essence and the rediscovery of tenderness through faith.
Her Lord, Her Holding: What the Hymn Still Teaches Us
A radiant spark of light hovers above calm water, casting soft ripples across a lavender-gold surface—symbolizing Christ the Reviver, grace entering time and moving through creation.
Jesus: The REVIVER
Abstract golden light emerging from stone, forming ten radiant lines around a central circle—symbolizing the Ten Commandments as living coordinates of grace rather than laws.
The Commandments Decoded
A lone figure walks down a fog-covered road at sunrise, moving toward a soft golden light. Other faint silhouettes appear in the distance, barely visible through the mist. Power lines and trees blur into the haze, creating a feeling of quiet return and inner transformation.

Welcome to the Black Parade

This morning, a song from my youth opened something I didn’t realize I’d been carrying. Welcome to the Black Parade became the doorway—through absence, grace, and return—that led me back to a place I didn’t know I’d left. Sometimes the song you’ve carried the longest is the one that finally carries you home.

A quiet two-lane road stretches straight into the horizon at dusk, viewed from inside a car. The sky fades from soft orange to pale blue, and the empty landscape creates a calm, panoramic sense of stillness and presence.

The Quiet Places That Still Hold Us Awake

Driving helped me remember something older than cars: the need for moments that hold our presence. As the world automates more of life, we face the quiet loss of the places that once returned us to ourselves.

A single black dress shoe sits on a reflective marble floor inside a high-rise lobby at night, with warm holiday lights and a city skyline blurred in the background.

Yes, Die Hard Is a Christmas Movie

We return to Die Hard every December not for the action, but for its quiet truth: a man trying to come home, a marriage searching for its center, and the courage it takes to tell the truth during the holidays. This is a reflection on grace, reconciliation, and why even the loudest stories hold a quiet Christmas heart.

A softly lit church interior with empty wooden pews in the foreground and a blurred children’s choir holding candles near stained-glass windows in the background.

Yes, Home Alone Is a Christmas Movie

We remember Home Alone for the chaos, but its real Christmas story hides in the quiet scenes — a church pew, a forgotten woman, and two strangers rediscovering the courage to return. This is a reflection on grace, honesty, and the small human moments that bring us home.

A driver steadies the wheel as morning sunlight bursts across an empty road, a sudden ray flooding the windshield — symbolizing how truth can blind before it guides.

When the Light Is Too Bright

This reflection traces how presence and grace live in tension: between clarity and kindness, between comfort and awakening,
between the Christ who soothes and the one who stirs.

Soft abstract waves of amber and blue light intertwining across a neutral background, symbolizing the shared rhythm of breath and grace moving through all existence.

The Shared Breath

A quiet remembrance on how every inhale is borrowed and every exhale is a gift — a reflection that begins in a shared bed, expands through family, and ends in communion with all that breathes.

Abstract waves in soft neutral tones flowing across a light horizon, symbolizing the unseen dialogue between grace and readiness.

The Longest Interview

I never really interviewed for jobs. Each one found me through presence. And this morning I realized — Christ has been my longest interviewer.